I know. I know it is
September. Most of you likely thought I had lost either my ability to type or
my hands altogether, because this is the first post in months and a
conscientious person like myself would never leave a blog languishing that
long. You’re all very sweet. But,
inexplicably, without a job, nor kids, nor daily routines, I simply haven’t chiseled
out time to sit and write. I’m terribly sorry. But I hope this post will
clarify what does haunt me when I let
it (which is far too often) and takes up much of that “non-job” time.
Superhusband and I are often asked “So, how’s immigration
going? Where are you in the process?” Let me tell you that there is no easy way
(nor fast way) to answer those questions.
And sometimes I’m even tempted to reply, “Why? What have you
heard?? TELL ME!” And then there are
those who follow this up with “But aren’t you married? Doesn’t that make a
difference?” Sure, it makes a difference: to God, to mankind, to us
personally….but to governing bodies which oversee our right to gainful
employment? Nope. Still illegal to be a two-income family wherever we go. Lame.
But in order to shed some light on the serpentine lives
we’ve been leading, and to just fill you in on what it takes to immigrate if
you’d ever consider it (and, really, to get some over-milked sympathy, as if I
don’t get enough) I’m going to try to outline the process we’ve taken so far to
get Superhusband to the USA to stay. Please note, there are other ways of going
about the process, but we have chosen our best option at each juncture (so we
thought) and have navigated honestly through the choices given, though we often
acted in ignorance of the big picture.
And THAT is mainly what burns me up about this limbo we’re in—if we had
known clearly the paths we needed to take when we started, we could have been
done by now. And I often feel cheated out of these months by deadlocked
bureaucratic nonsense and the absence of a clearly outlined process. But as my
father says, “No education is ever wasted.” and boy, has this ever been an
education. Ergo, I would also like to present this as “Exhibit A” for mine and
Superhusband’s application for “Champions of Immigration Reform” and advisors
to the US Senate.
And away we go…..
Superhusband (then only SuperAussieBoyfriend) proposed to me
in Red Lobster in Florence, Alabama on Friday, March 25th 2011. At
that point he and I had already discussed the pros and cons and financial
burdens of moving to one continent or the other, and decided that we would try
the US first. About two weeks later, after asking for references from those “in
the know,” I sought the advice of an immigration lawyer in Jackson, Tennessee
on how to start the locomotive of paperwork and legality down the track. Now, I should have been tipped off when, as I
explained my engagement and hopes for the future, the lawyer quipped confusedly
“Oh…so you want to do it the right
way?” I should have flung myself right back out into the soggy West Tennessee
afternoon. But I stayed. And I listened. And it has cost me two years of my
life.
This lawyer suggested that since we were engaged, we should
begin by filing a Fiancée Visa application.
As I was hoping to have the wedding in November, I asked if eight months
should be enough time, to which she replied, “Probably.” Then she said that if
I was to require her services I would need to lay down a $2,000 retainer, and
that would last until she had worked a grand ten hours on my case, at which
point I would be required to keep making a $200/hr payment. Now those of you who are lawyers may be
thinking that this was a reasonable fee, and it very well might be. But to me, in my first job at a private
university, only guaranteed one semester of gainful employment, that kind of
money was not a practical expenditure. I am literate, college-educated, not a
total dweeb….I thought I could surely, as the VBS song says, “Read and study
and then obey.” So I embarked on the process with only my wits.
The first thing I found out was that I could not directly
apply for my fiancée to come to the United States. I had to petition to apply with the I-129F. That
cost $340, took a few hours to fill out, and needed to be accompanied by the
G-1145 form to allow internet correspondence, and a G-325A including biographic
information on both of us, including but not limited to every address at which
either of us had lived in the last ten years (Do you know me? That’s a
herculean task.) two color passport
photos taken in the last six months, a full-color copy front and back of my
original birth certificate, and a statement certifying that our engagement is
not a product of international marriage
broker services. I rushed, and got papers from Paul (mind you, each time
documents went back and forth at break-neck speed between Australia and the US you’re
looking at $30-50 each way) and filed our first papers on April 17, 2011. We
then received “Notice of Action,” and then………nothing. Not a peep. We didn’t know this was normal,
because no one told us that it normally takes five months to approve the first
step. FIVE months of just sitting there.
And by sitting there, I mean teaching university, directing Shakespeare and
early modern theatre, finishing two thesis projects, wedding-planning, and
house-sitting while SuperAussieFiancee was working full time and preparing to
sell his house.
I admit, this is hard for me to write. I am finding it hard to remember all the
twists and turns and I’m feeling a flood of the anxiety which has defined
months of my life. I’ll try a list, but
with explanations at certain points.
·
We discovered we could call my local congressman
or senator for guidance, but we had to sign a privacy agreement first and mail
the hard-copy to Birmingham, and then wait for them to contact us. Which I did
in June, and had a lovely conversation with Lyndsay. She was skeptical about
the timing, since we had already planned the date for our wedding, but she was
encouraging.
·
After teaching one semester and graduating with
my MFA in May, I flew to Australia to see SuperAussieFiancee’s hometown and
help him sell the house from June-Sept 2010.
·
After not hearing anything from any government
agency for a while, we tried to call for information. We discovered we cannot
call the USCIS directly (United States Citizenship and Immigration Services),
nor was any government official in Australia able to take a call for
help—which, if they could, costs $12 per conversation. Lyndsay checked on this
“no information” thing and discovered that whoever had put our case number in
the system had failed to register it properly, so we weren’t getting updates.
·
SuperAussieFiancee’s house sold at the end of
August, 2010.
·
I flew back to the States September 16, 2010
alone, to prepare for the wedding. I had 7 weeks.
·
SuperAussieFiancee flew to the States on October
3, 2010 to help with the wedding and get acclimated, all the while wondering IF
he could actually get into the country with a pending-but-not-approved visa. He
called when he was “through security,” and we cheered and wept.
·
On October 6, 2010 we drove to Birmingham to
pick up Fudge the dog from his cross-planetary flight. He was happy to see us,
and he now barks with a more Alabamian accent.
·
Around October 15, we were FINALLY approved to
make our official application for Fiancee Immigration. I, however, knew that once
we filled in those papers, the interview (which would take place in Sydney)
could be scheduled at any time. Widespread
panic. What if they scheduled the
interview on the day of the wedding? What if all of SuperAussieFiancee’s family
showed up in FLORENCE, stinkin’ ALABAMA, and we were back in Australia getting
permission to marry? What if we postponed the wedding, and his WHOLE family
lost THOUSANDS of dollars in travel cancellations, and THAT was their first
impression of me as a person? We ended up cancelling our
dream-honeymoon-cabin-by-the-river in Chattanooga because we didn’t know if
we’d be in the country to use it. We opted for the much cheaper
duplex-cabin-by-the-lake in Iuka, MS.
·
I somehow convinced myself that it would be
okay. We would get married, and then just finish the paperwork for Fiancee Visa
in Australia, have an interview, and then “declare” our marriage on documents
after that. This was likely my most
delusional phase in the whole process.
·
Superhusband planned a surprise layover in
Brisbane to see my cousin. That eased the not-being-home-for-Thanksgiving
feelings. It was dreamy (EXCEPT for the moment in the Annerly Motor Inn in
Brisbane where the hard-of-hearing cleaning woman decided to start her work 30
minutes before check-out, and did not hear our plaintive screams to shut the
door and NOT uncover our nakedness—you know, two weeks into marriage when
mutual nakedness is still a really big deal. Scarring.)
·
About a week after arriving back in Perth, my father
had a massive heart attack in Alabama. I did not get a phone call, I got emails
with headings like “Dad.” Which nearly caused ME to have a heart attack, and on
top of wondering if I’d ever get back to the US, I now worried whether I would
ever see my father alive again.
·
We bought a caravan on Dec. 16th so
we could finally get some much-needed privacy and use it later to travel to
Sydney and see the country. After an inaugural trip before Christmas, we also
bought a bigger car to haul the thing, and made sure this one was an automatic
so I could share in the driving.
·
With dad sufficiently healing in the hospital,
we gathered more papers to submit to gain an interview, including an Affidavit
of Support secured from one of my relatives, for which we had to wait six weeks
because the postal service sent it to WA-Washington state instead of WA-Western
Australia. This form, for those of you who are interested, is a form stating
that the immigrant in question will not be allowed to become a “public ward,” and
requires the sponsor to prove they have lived above the poverty line for the
past three years AND that they will support the immigrant for no fewer than ten
years barring death of either the sponsor or immigrant. Of course, we had to
invite a family member into the equation because I had been in graduate school
for the last three years, and we all know that MFA and “poverty” go hand in
hand. Humbling. Terrifying. I never imagined that my education and economic
standing could keep my husband from living in my country.
·
Before I sent more paperwork, I asked the US
Embassy in Sydney if we needed any special marriage documentation to complete
the forms. On December 4th, 2010, I received word that since we were
married and no longer engaged, we could not use any of our former paperwork and
we had to start over. START OVER. New request for permission to apply, new $400
filing fee, new postage fees, new pictures, new everything. And this time, some
of the forms were different. My “six-week” stay was now to be much, much
longer. And then there was the unbelievable guilt of having not seen this
coming.
·
On December 29th the USCIS lockbox
facility in Chicago (as we had to send papers to a different spot this time)
received our new paperwork. We had started over. Had we known we would have to
start over, we could have STAYED in the States married, and filed from there,
skipping the Sydney interview. But now, having filed from Australia, we set
ourselves on a different path of Consular Processing. And we’re paying $33 per
night to park our own house in a caravan park (trailer park) and eat our own
food. It has now been three months since
Superhusband has worked, and seven months for me. But none of this constitutes
a “special circumstance” to the government.
·
We then had to notify our Congressman’s office
again and send a new privacy release form before they could continue to work on
our behalf. Lyndsay was not so chatty this time around.
·
And then we waited, hemorrhaging money until
such time as we got clearance for an interview. We were hopeful that this would be more
economical than two more international flights and it would enable us to take
off at a moment’s notice to Sydney. Of course, we had to purchase a $267 e-Visa
for me to stay in the country for a total of six months.
·
By April we knew we would not have time to be
approved AND schedule an interview before my visa ran out. So, we decided to see some of the country
anyway: this was likely the best part of our stay. We spent our last month
travelling north and east through Western Australia, knowing we’d have to come
back.
·
Got an email from a beautiful cousin letting me
know about a children’s theatre directing position in Florence, AL. Started an auspicious email conversation.
·
On May 21, 2012, we were approved for filing an
official application. That’s exactly
FOUR days before flying back to the States for a family reunion.
·
Back in the States, the family reunion was
amazing, and the first couple of weeks tumultuous while we were both fighting
culture shock. Within three weeks Superhusband couldn’t stand the boredom
anymore and we were off on another cross-continental trip up the US East Coast
and into Canada, seeing many beautiful people along the way. It was a mixed
bag, and quite unforgettable.
·
While on this trip I got a call from our local
university about a job for which I had applied months ago. Over the moon! I finally had an interview in
my field.
·
Then back to the paperwork for me—we filed the
application, and received instructions for the “Choice of Agent” which declared
me as the “official” person for the government to converse with.
·
After
that we received instructions (and this is how it goes these days—not
until after you complete one step do you get instructions and fee information
for the next step) on the Affadavit of Support.
Same name, but completely different document from before. We thought we needed the same things from our
sponsor, but we did not, so we had to humble ourselves again and grovel for new
paperwork. This document also required a list of all assets (property,
vehicles, etc) with tax information and valuation for all, a hard-copy print
out of account history for EVERY bank account we owned spanning the last twelve
months, and my tax records for the last three years. This took days to
complete.
·
Next we were informed that our application
showed a gap of more than 6 months in our residence history. I had to re-type
and re-submit a four-page form detailing every address Superhusband had had
since the age of 16. Did it, mailed it, spent $27 to get it there.
·
Next we were given instructions on “supporting
documents.” This required Superhusband’s original birth certificate
(fortunately we HAD this), copies of his passport, and police clearance checks
for all countries in which he had resided for 6 months or more since the age of
16. As fate would have it, he had spent exactly 6 months in England at the age
of 16. Another document needed.
·
Upon researching what was required for police
clearance checks in Australia and England we found that both had to be paid for
in local currency, and the US required the checks to be completed with
fingerprint scans as well. To even HAVE your fingerprints taken in Australia
takes three months and is ridiculously expensive. However, Australia does
accept fingerprints from the US and Canada. AND you can apply online, but if
you do, you must pay online, and seemingly you can’t pay online if you’re
mailing fingerprints separately.
After trying to find a digital-body-scan
operation in Alabama (or TN, GA, or MS) and failing, I called the Australian
Federal Police one night on Skype. This
had to be at 11pm because of the 16-hour time difference. I have never been so
astounded as when I heard the automated answering machine say, “You are caller
number One-hundred and two. Your
approximate wait time is One-hundred and eighty minutes.” When I picked my chin
up off the floor, I asked Superhusband if we even HAD enough Skpe credit to
wait that long—he didn’t know, so while we were on hold in one window, we
opened a second window to buy more credit, and hope we didn’t have to refresh
the page to get it. It worked. We waited just under two hours to speak to a
representative, and they were no help this time. But we tried again a couple of
days later, and by an act of God Himself I was connected to Phillip in
Melbourne. I explained my situation, and
after some negotiation he came back with “Here’s what you’re going to do: Pay
online, print out the consent form, send it with the fingerprints, and we’ll
match them up when they get here.” I sprinted into the other room where
Superhusband was making a cabinet and began to leap about exclaiming “We can do
it! We can do it!” He laughed at first,
and then remarked that I hadn’t been that excited about anything he had done for months.
So, we mailed that off, (as it had a
minimum of a 25-day processing time) and started looking at the British police
clearance. That required another set of
fingerprints, payment in Pounds Stirling (no online option) and a passport
style photograph endorsed by an upstanding member of society (several
occupations listed as options) who had known Superhusband for a minimum of two
years, with a supporting document containing the signer’s name, address, and
sworn statement. And having researched attempting to get a bank draft in a
foreign currency before, we knew this one would have to be done in Australia.
But the fingerprints had to be done before we left. So, the Alabama Bureau of Investigation came through
with fingerprinting done each day before 10am, completed on the day before we
flew overseas.
·
Within this time I had the aforementioned
interview at our local university. I
could not sign papers because things were still up in the air about our
processing. I loved the interview, was offered the job, and the professor even
sent an email to our congressman’s office to ask for our case to be expedited
so I could be back in the States for this job. Unbeknownst to us, however, our
advocate Lyndsay had quit the department, and our case had been sent to three
different places. It was now under the
supervision of a girl named Shan. I called Shan to ask about how to allow a
potential employer to send an email on my behalf. Shan so astutely replied “Look, I don’t know
anything about these immigration cases.” Just at the time when help could
finally be valuable, we were left bereft. But it didn’t end there. Shan proceeded to send an expedite
request..to the WRONG embassy. That’s
right, folks. We received a letter
stating that as soon as our paperwork went through to the LONDON office, they
would speed it along. So, immediately, we called Shan and asked for an
explanation. She, again astutely
replied, “Well, it’s because he was born in London.” Now, as many of you may
already know, “London” is city, not a country, and Paul was born on almost the
opposite end of the island from said city. That being as it was, we simply
asked her not to do anything else. It
was already clear that we could not make it back in time to start the job, and
I had had to turn it down. And communicating with Sydney (the correct embassy)
would be too much for our young friend. But still, she was not satisfied until
she had ruined everything. Shan
proceeded to contact Sydney, against our wishes, and was met with a “No, we
will not expedite this case” answer. It was at this point we called the head
office of the congressman to get her forcibly removed from the case so no
further damage could be done. As if we didn’t have enough to do.
·
Also during the fingerprinting/police check process,
we began to get mixed signals from our family sponsor. After enduring some
unsolicited advice from said family member, some constructive and some not,
Superhusband and I decided to be the dumpers and not the dumpees. From that point forward, we were determined
to attempt an independent sponsorship.
·
That is, until we received an email on August 5,
2012 which stated that our income looked “too low” (that’s bureaucratese for
“nonexistant”) and we might consider a joint sponsor. Well, duh. So my wonderful parents stepped in
and offered their limited income and a HOUSE as assets to aid us. 24-hours and 30-pages of documents later, I
was back in the post office spending another $27 to send a tree’s worth of print
to New Hampshire.
·
August 7, 2012 we fly back to Australia. After a
birthday and holiday stop in Melbourne, we arrived back in Perth and again
started the waiting process.
·
On August 20th we received an email
saying that one box in the 30-page Affidavit document did not match the
materials sent subsequently, and therefore had to be amended and re-sent. So, I
called the National Visa Center (on Skype, of course) to see if I could send
this information at the same time as the police certificates. The information was actually given by a
person, I assume a live one, and was a helpful “Yes.”
·
The first police certificate arrived a few days
later, and after completing the requirements for the British certificate and
waiting nearly the maximum processing time (and being $126 poorer for the
prize,) we received the final piece of the puzzle on Monday, September 17th,
2012 at 11am. By 4pm that very day we had compiled the rest and mailed it to
straight to the NVC. It should be
sitting in New Hampshire right now, and up for another 20-day review period.
So there we are, folks. After New
Hampshire makes doubly-triply sure that we’ve dotted every i and crossed every
t, they will talk to the US Embassy in Sydney and then notify us of an
interview time. We hope. If they find
something else wrong, which I imagine they could, we will repeat our process of
fixing, finding, sending. Then we’ll only have a medical exam and a
cross-continental trip to make.
But I tell you this, if after this
season changes Superhusband and I can have the life we have envisioned, then it
will all be worth the battle. We will not
take each other, our home, or even our ability to work for granted. And
eventually, our children will benefit from a really great book deal. Until
then, THAT’S how immigration is going.
